Don't Hurt Me
by letmefallasleep
Summary: Abuse Warning. A short little one-shot about Shawn's life as a kid. Rated T for abuse


I don't understand…

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_Why can't I have a moment of peace?_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_Don't they know I'm trying to sleep?_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_Why is Dad so mad?_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_Don't they get that they're making me sad?_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_I know it's because of that stuff_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_Why does my dad get so rough?_

Six year old Shawn Hunter quickly dove under the bed at the sound of yelling. His face streaming with tears, he pulled the blanket over his head and started praying.

He didn't believe in God. No, life had been too harsh to Shawn for him to believe in God. At a young age, he'd learned that there _couldn't_ be a God who would allow these things to happen. So he prayed to an angel. He'd never seen his angel, but he knew someone had to care about him. If he didn't have an angel, there was no way he would still be alive.

He cringed when he heard screaming, and pulled the blanket tighter around him. He knew soon the sounds of glass breaking, and his mother's cries would follow. He knew shortly after that, he'd be dragged out from his hiding spot, out into the living room, where –if he was lucky –he would only bear witness to what would happen.

Sure enough, less than five minutes later, his door burst open, and his father's heavy booted feet appeared in Shawn's view.

"Boy! Boy, get out here!" Chet Hunter roared.

Shawn cringed, and tried to hide further under the bed, pushing himself flat against the wall. He kept silent, still praying fervently that maybe, just maybe, his father would leave him alone.

But he wasn't that lucky. A big meaty hand reached under, and pulled him out by his hair.

"No, stop! Please, dad, stop!" Shawn cried, trying to get to his feet as his father dragged him out of his room, down the hallway, and into the living room, where he was thrown against the coffee table.

He struggled to pull himself into a sitting position, his ribs roaring with pain as he cringed against the couch. He looked over at his mother with pleading eyes, but she just looked away as Chet kicked out, sending the little boy flying again.

"Tell me what your mother is!" Chet screamed.

"Dad, please, don't," Shawn begged. "I don't wanna, dad, please…"

"Tell her!" Chet yelled again, punctuating his words with a backhanded slap.

"S-s-she's a-a-a wh-wh-wh-wh-" Shawn couldn't stop stuttering enough to get the last word out.

"Say it! Goddammit boy, can't you even _talk_ right?" Chet roared, picking Shawn up, and throwing him across the room.

As his back collided with the TV stand, Shawn tried to crawl out of the way of the falling TV. But he couldn't move.

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_I don't understand why they're mad_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_I know I must have been bad_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_I just want the life I had_

_I don't understand why they're yelling_

_I don't understand why you do this, dad_

"Boy… you know I didn't mean anything last night, right?" Chet asked, opening a can of soda.

Shawn half-sat, half-laid against the living room wall, cradling his broken arm to his chest. He couldn't stand, and he could barely hear or see. He cringed as Chet stepped closer to him.

"No… please, don't…" He whispered. "I'm sorry."

Chet hesitated, before walking over to the freezer, and pulling out a package of frozen peas. He walked back over to his son, and gently set it against the little boy's puffy eye.

"Here… uh, keep that on there, it'll keep the swelling down."

But Shawn was shaking to violently to hold the bag still, and his arm rebelled against being made to move. The bag dropped to the floor, peas rolling everywhere.

Chet kneeled next to his son, and started crying. "I didn't mean it, Shawnie. I didn't mean it. You know that, right? I'd never hurt you, Shawn. Please, Shawn, look at me," Chet begged, reaching a hand out towards Shawn.

But Shawn started convulsing, his fear over-riding everything else in his body, as he tried to crawl away, dragging himself on one arm as tears spilled down his face.

"Don't hurt me, dad," He moaned softly. "Please don't hurt me…"


End file.
